Staying Alive
by TrueLoveWillNeverDie
Summary: Madge has lost everything. Family, home, life. She just wants to give up. But she can't, she has two important people to take care of. But could there be another reason to stay alive? A certain someone on her mind? Gale stays alive and keeps his family safe. But is there someone plaguing his thoughts that's filling him with guilt. And maybe, just maybe, something else? MadgexGale
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, this will be my first fanfiction that is not an oneshot. I hope you like it! It is a Madge and Gale story. I will try to update every few days, I haven't decided. I will make an effort to keep each chapter at least 2,000 words. It will vary from Madge to Gale's point of view. **

**It is set during the bombing of District Twelve, but this time Madge survives. However, its true, no one went back to save her. But will that make a difference in the end?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. I just died a little inside when I typed that, but it's true. :( **

**Enjoy the story my ever amazing readers!**

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Dead. They are dead. They will never return to me. They will never give me a hug, offer comfort, or care for me. Because they are dead. My parents are dead, along with half the population from Twelve.

I can't let this get me down though. I have people to care for. For once in my life, someone is now depending on me and putting their faith in my every move. I would be the most heartless person in the world if I let them down. So I am going to keep them alive. I am going to care for them, feed them, and love them. Even if I work myself to the bone, even if I starve or go mad from dehydration, I am going to work every last fiber in my body in order to ensure what little safety I can give them.

My name is Madge Undersee and I'm going to make sure my kids survive.

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**Madge POV**

Katniss's arrow hits the unseen mark. Shocks of light and surges of electricity spark the screen. The television shows Katniss one last time, her arm bleeding profusely and her body lying on the ground, then it cuts to black. The box giving a protesting pop before the whole power goes out.

Our lights flicker off one by one, the refrigerator's constant drone ceases, and the cooling system shuts down. My eyes widen in surprise and I lift myself off the couch. Where is my father? Surely he knows what's going on. The power never goes out in town. In the Seam, power outages are common occurrences that happen every other day, but not in Town. In Town the electricity is constant and unwavering. It's a typical Capitol technique to separate the two sides of our district, but it's dependable.

I remember my dad had to stay late again and clear up some paperwork. Apparently, the majority of our peacekeepers have been shipped out. I guess the Capitol finally figured out we are too weak to rebel, no matter our persistence.

I puzzle over our power dilemma, what just happened? Katniss did something I'm not able to understand, and it caused the Capitol to shut off our power. She must have performed another rebellious act. The thing is, it has to have been something so influential that they needed to close off the program without even playing the Panem seal and anthem.

I make my way to the stairs to check on my mother. Her state is worsening day by day. The headaches becoming even more severe and forcing her to lapse into morphling induced blackouts. I suspect the reason of it is that my aunt's pin being flashed everywhere as a sign of rebellion and the particular brutality of the Hunger Games this year because of it.

I walk to her doorway and peer in. I see her small lump under the covers in the dark room. I notice the vial of morphling on the bedside table and know she will be deeply asleep. Not even an earthquake could wake her. I smile sadly. At least when she's passed out she is at peace. I may have missed out on a mother all throughout my childhood. But that doesn't mean I don't love her. I do, so much. I'm her caretaker. The roles in our family are reversed, I being the strong female role in our family, and her the hidden, out of eye, family member.

It isn't true that I'm the stuck up girl everyone thinks I am, or at least, I hope it's not. Maybe I should be, it is what's expected of me, but I'm not. In an odd twist of fate, I'm not fond of our wealth. Oh, I wouldn't give up the food on the table or the warmth every winter, but I don't like how it separates us from everyone. How it pulls my father away to work all hours of the day, how it's still not enough to cure my mother, how everyone hates me because of it. I've grown up with it, so I don't know how to live any differently, but it doesn't mean I'm not aware of everyone else's poverty. I am very much aware, I see the skinny frames of the children from the seam and the dirty clothes. I notice how they're rarely able to change their clothes, yet I get a new dress every week.

And I don't like it. I don't like the Capitol or our government. Maybe I don't voice it aloud like the rest of my district, but I still hate them. Because all the wrong in our district? It's _their_ fault.

I descend the steps and finally mull over the one thing that is truly worrying me. The image that is playing over and over in my mind. The state I saw Katniss in. Blood flowing freely from a cut that a tribute inflicted and body sprawled out on the dirt floor. I'm worried about her, she looked worse for wear. Clothes ragged from her short adventure throughout the game, her wounds more prominent, and the possibility, from what I saw on screen, that she has been electrocuted. I can't help her from here, not matter how much money I donate, if she's been too injured to fight.

I decide to go see my father. He may be able to do something about our lack of power. He also may be able to shed some light on Katniss's situation, she couldn't be dead. She didn't look dead. Katniss just isn't the type of person to die. She's a survivor, a fighter, and untouchable.

I take the spare key under the potted plant as I exit out house. I lock the door behind me. Storing the small piece of metal in my dress pocket, I start the short trek to the Justice Building. There's a hum in the air that I ignore. If anything, I am most likely imagining it. I'm a bit riled up today.

Despite the sky beginning to darken and curfew soon to be enforced with the few peacekeepers we have left, people are buzzing in the square. Most emerging from their houses in a confused state or walking about questioning one another.

Over the chatter of people, I hear the hum become a steady whir. It seems everyone is too caught up in the recent events to notice it, and the few that do, aren't paying attention to it. I pause and listen carefully. If I choose to, I can easily to overlook it, but I take the time to study it. A foreign sound resonating from far away, its low sound increasing and settling a feeling of uneasiness in me.

I look up to the sky and notice a large speck in the setting sun. It is getting larger and larger. I squint and lean forward. It's a… hovercraft? District Twelve doesn't get hovercrafts, we just don't. Peacekeepers and my father, very rarely, are the only ones allowed to leave our district. Even then, it's only by the train that passes through our area occasionally.

The only reason I know what it is, is because of our television. Otherwise, I would be clueless. I'm puzzled and frozen in curiosity. What could it possibly be doing here? There's no one important enough for a hovercraft to be picked up in District Twelve. I would know of any scheduled visits or guests from the Capitol.

I start moving again, this time with even more perseverance. I need to get to my father, he'll know what's going on. He has to, he's the mayor.

I slip out of my walk into a jog, weaving through crowd and snaking through people. The hovercraft is getting closer. People are pointing and murmuring amongst each other. Some are even shouting angrily at the flying machine. A few are returning weakly to their homes, but most everyone is just standing and staring, only adding an occasional word into the conversations here and there.

The hovercraft is almost over us, high in the sky and pausing a small distance from the crowds. It passes over us in favor of heading toward the exact same place I am heading for. It stops directly over the Justice Building. I break out into a run. Something feels wrong, terribly and horribly wrong. I have to warn my father or have him explain this to me. I push past motionless citizens.

The horde of bodies is so thick I can barely make it through. Most people staying put and not moving when I brush roughly past them. They are too curious and worried about these strange circumstances to take notice of me.

The hovercraft is releasing a giant unfamiliar object from its clutches. Everything's in slow motion as it falls. Slow and steady, not breaking its course no matter how much I will it to. I know what it is without ever having seen it before. I know the destruction it will inflict and the pain. I know the deaths it will cause. I know _whose_ death it will cause. I'm dazed as I try to force everyone away. There's no fear or anger, because all I am is numb. I race to the building. But it's like I'm not fast enough, like I'm a part of my slow motion view. My body is moving sluggishly. I am not aware of the rest of my blurry surroundings. All I can hear is the whistle of the potent object as it falls. I can only stare at the Justice Building, everything else is irrelevant.

An earsplitting boom snaps me out of my stupor. I'm knocked a couple steps back even though I'm not near the collision course. Then everything rushes back, breaking me out of my sluggish state. The world returns to normal, I can hear again and I can see everything again. But I don't want to, I want my hazy bubble back. Because I see it. I see it and my mind can't register it. I gaze at the torturous flames engulfing buildings. I hear the cries of surprise and screams of fear. I notice people being blown back by the shock of the bomb. I taste the smoke in the air. I feel the heat on my skin and the force of the impact.

I'm glued to my spot, my feet stopping movement of their own will. It is a vast contrast from the running and fleeing people around me. Some yank on my arms or shoulders as they run away, trying to get me to follow them. They stop when they realize it is a futile attempt trying to convince me to escape. I'm rooted and unmovable. The square is almost clear when I start screaming. I'm screaming for my father. I'm cursing and crying and yelling all at the same time.

My mind catches up with everything going on. Even though in my heart I know it's useless, I run for the burning building. I can feel the intense heat and noxious gas, and I ignore them. I ignore it when I'm close enough that the flames start little licks on my skin and I ignore it as my head dizzies from the smoke.

Every structure surrounding the Justice Building is burning. Falling apart and aflame, ruined. I don't pay them any mind as I can only focus on one thing.

The only thing that stops me are the hunks strewn outside of the now crumbling structure. It takes me a moment to recognize them, they are so damaged.

Body parts.

Burnt and charred body parts. An arm to my left and a leg to my right, the scorched flesh falling off and the clothes melting onto the limbs. My stomach churns and twists at the sight and any hope is diminished. Sobs wrack my body and I start dry heaving.

Only when I fall to my knees do I finally grasp the pointlessness of my efforts. The sickening proof is right in front of my eyes.

My father is dead.

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**Please review, I encourage you to also message me with questions and etcetera. Here is a little treat for those of you who really need the next chapter. I will message you a sneak peek from the next chapter if you review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I know right? I can barely live with myself. But I do have this story so I guess I can deal! **

**Big thanks for the reviews of: tencentblues, barbarella-1980, Fashionaddict22, ****EpicStories339494, and ****VieWasOnFire**

**I greatly appreciate the feedback! I was originally going to update Wednesday, but I just couldn't wait :) So Tuesday it is!**

**Love you all! Enjoy the story my fabulous readers!**

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**Gale POV**

My back is sore on the hard mattress. It's not helping that half of my over six foot frame hangs off the old thing.

It hasn't been too long since my whipping. The deep lashes are healed. Only scars are left in their place. There's no constant agony like the first few weeks after the incident. Though sometimes, when the skin is pulled taught from swinging an ax in the mines or from drawing back on my bow, there is a permanent pain. An ache set deep into my bones that radiates throughout my back.

I don't complain though. It wouldn't do any good nor could there be anything done about it. So I suffer through it and continue my work. I look forward to coming home and easing myself onto our meek furniture until the pain passes. I hate how I have to put off playing with my little sister, Posy, because of it. How I have to wait to wrestle with Vick and Rory. How I can't help my mom with the laundry right away.

Today is worse than usual and only made more terrible by our power outage. Now on top of worry about my back, my job, and my family, I have to worry about Katniss. Not that I wasn't already worrying about her, but she's like me. A survivor. While she might try and sacrifice herself for the good of others, she could never die. After her first Games, I think I convinced myself of that. Enough to focus on life again anyway.

I love Katniss Everdeen, we have known each other since childhood and depend on one another. My feelings started about a year or two before her first Games. Little hints here and there. Like how I would catch myself staring at her during school, or find myself in the woods a little too early just to wait for her, or realize I had been watching her fierce determination as she took down prey.

But now I'll never get my chance to tell her, because I know she loves Mellark. No matter how much it kills me, I know this. From the time she volunteered on Reaping Day to the moment she put the deadly berries into her and Peeta's hands, I knew it. Her Games almost sent me to my death. Watching her day in and day out, staring at the screen as my eyes dried out until I was sure she escaped every situation she was put in. I only concentrated on her and keeping both our families alive. My heart clenched painfully at her near death experiences, hunger, and saddening losses. It bruised when I was announced her cousin. It cracked at Peeta's confession of love for Katniss. Finally, my heart broke when she kissed Peeta Mellark.

Then she came back, and they were no longer a couple, I stupidly thought I had a miniscule chance. At my first opportunity, when we were alone, I kissed her. I put every feeling and all my love into that kiss, but she rejected it. Rejected _me_. Katniss Everdeen took my broken heart and trampled on it with her hunting boots.

Then my whipping. One of the worse days of my life. Maybe_ the_ worst day of my life. I'd tried to sell a turkey to Cray, our head peacekeeper, only to find out we had acquired brand new one. One that wasn't too fond of illegally poached turkey.

Romulus Thread's whip cracked against my skin numerous times. I'd lost count when I finally and thankfully blacked out. When I did come out of the blackness, it was to yelling people with worried looks and frantic motions. I was in so much pain, and then everyone left me. I was worried and immobile in misery. I could hear the door open and someone mumble something, but I didn't know or care who. In a flash Mrs. Everdeen was back in the kitchen. She leaned over and injected something into my arm. I had fallen asleep on the kitchen table in an instant. No more pain. Well, until Mrs. E stopped giving me whatever was in the needles.

I had two weeks to recover and I was back in the mines, spending my free time trying to hunt even more discreetly. Only to be hit with worse news, Katniss was going back into the Games.

I roll over to my side and wince. I carefully listen to what is going on in the next room for a distraction. Hearing Posy's light laughter and Vick's soft chuckles lessens my discomfort some. I think Rory is telling them a joke, trying to turn their attention away from the Games and the oncoming darkness. Another thing to worry about, Rory. He's been becoming more and more determined to go hunting with me. I won't let him. It's just too dangerous, especially with all the new peacekeepers.

Although, I did see them sending many of them away on the train. I don't really know whether I'm thankful or offended. Thankful for the lessening in brutal and unnecessary force, or offended because we aren't seen as a threat to the Capitol.

The Capitol. I have hated them for as long as I can remember. I recall my father hating it before he died. Hell, I bet he still hates it from wherever he is now. My whole family hates the Capitol, but they don't express it as openly as I do.

I hear my mom's footsteps echo through our small house. They stop in front of the bedroom my whole family shares. "Gale, dinner's ready." I hesitantly stand and stretch. Grimacing at every painful pop and crackle as I try to work out the kinks in my neck and back.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," I gruff. She sighs, but leaves. I think she's aware that my back causes me problems, no matter how hard I try to hide it. She never says anything though, and I'm grateful. She knows I would fight anything she says tooth and nail to keep my meager miners pay and hunting meat. I suppose mothers are just like that, they know everything.

I stiffly walk to the door, the floorboards creaking with every step. I'm halfway to the kitchen when I hear a deafening blast. It's like a clap of thunder, loud, scary, and a warning. A warning something is coming.

I'm still and unmoving. Even as the vibrations rumble underneath my feet and the few possessions we have quiver, I'm still. Then my family starts screaming.

I break into a run and hurry the small distance. I enter the kitchen and stop to assess my family for a short moment. Everyone is fine, only frightened and shocked. My mom is the first one to break out of her trance and move in front of me. "Gale we need to get out! I think- I think we're being bombed," she says quickly. I'm not sure how she instantly knows this, but the realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

We're being bombed.

I nod and grab my game bag from the kitchen counter. "Mom, get the kids and grab some clothes! I'll pack some food and get things together," I yell. They are all frozen and staring at me wide eyed, only my mother starts at my words. "Now! Go!"

They're scrambling out of their seats and running to find what they can. When I'm assured they're all working, I reach into our cupboards to grab anything edible. I stuff cans and jars into my bag, I run to the place where we keep all our smoked meat and cram it into the bag as well. What food we have is not even enough to last us a couple of days, I grab the last of our bread and a knife.

I rush to the front door to wait for my family, but almost trip over a small object in the living room. I muffle a curse and look down. No, not an object, a person. Posy, my five year old sister, is standing right in front of me. I have to jerk my body uncomfortably to avoid running over her. She is sniffing and biting her lower lip, tears are threatening fall from her gray eyes. She looks up to me questioningly, a ratty teddy bear in her hands. The teddy bear is probably the one possession she thought to grab during a crisis. "What's happening, Gale?" Posy whispers.

I shift my game bag over and bend down to pick her up. I offer her a reassuring look, despite our situation. "We're going away, but don't worry we'll be okay," I stress. She nods then buries her head into my shoulder. I don't think she really understands. She only knows something bad is happening and her big brother is keeping her safe, like always.

Posy's black curls are hiding her face from my sight, so I don't know if she starts crying. I'm about to set her down so I can check on the rest of my family, when everyone stumbles out of our bedroom. They are all carrying something on their backs or in their hands. My mom goes to take my bag, but I give her Posy instead.

"I need to get everyone out, mom. Meet me at the meadow, where the gate is. If I'm not there in ten minutes, go under it and get to the pond."

My mom looks like she wants to argue, but resignation settles over her features. She looks at me sadly, clutches Posy tighter, and gives me a peck on the cheek. "Be safe," she murmurs.

I smile sorrowfully at her and then shift to a comforting expression for my siblings. I turn to leave, but someone reaches out and seizes my arm. I look back and Rory is looking at me with a firm expression.

"Let me help. I can help," he pleads.

"No!" I bark. Yanking my arm away, I glare at him. I see his angry scowl and soften a little. "Please, stay here and get our family to safety," I reason. It takes a moment, but his scowl contorts into a compliant and grim understanding. He moves to take a protective stance in front of everyone. It's the spot I usually stand in. Even though he stands like a man, I see the innocence, that's still managed to stay in him after all we've been through, in his eyes as I turn away.

I sprint into the street. I dash through the Seam and only stop to knock on people's doors. I tell them to run to the fence. They already know something's wrong so it doesn't take much convincing to make them leave their homes. They all grab what little they have and round up their families. I see people pouring into the street with children in tow and bags slung hurriedly over their shoulders.

I mentally curse how far away Katniss's family lives. I would never leave them behind, but it is very inconvenient to run all the way to the Victor's Village for them. I see a fire where the town is, but I can't stop to help them. Katniss's friend, Madge, briefly flits through my mind. I don't think I'll have time to go rescue her.

I shake my head. Of course I can't rescue her. She probably already knew this would happen. She most likely left with her family and they are living in some high dollar house in the Capitol. Even as I think it, I feel guilty. I brush that feeling aside and grit my teeth.

I've knocked on half the people's doors and am halfway to the Everdeen's place when the second bomb drops.

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**As you can see, it will alternate between Madge's and Gale's point of views. I appreciate reviews and/or messages. I'll send you a little preview of the next chapter if you review. I welcome any criticism. Tell me what you think, I would love to know! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games. I cry myself to sleep every night because of it. *Sigh* But alas, what can I do? ****I do have this story though. It brings me happiness! **

**Thank you so much for the reviews from: tencentblues, EpicStories339494, Ninavs2, Fanpire109, and raphaella2000**

**Everyone say a big thank you to my superb beta, EpicStories339494. He did an awesome job!**

**Hey, by the way, I changed just one thing from the last chapter, Posy is actually five. If you go back and look, it's changed. Sorry I didn't catch my mistake when I was writing it. Maybe it's because I didn't have a beta, huh? :)**

**Love you all! Enjoy the story my marvelous readers!**

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**Madge POV**

I'm sobbing and hunched over myself. My knees are bleeding from the glass and debris on the ground. The heat all around is burning my skin and making me sweat. The perspiration mixes with my tears to trail salty paths down my face. My pink dress is stained and blackened, the dirty matching ribbon in my hair is falling out.

Through my closed eyes I can see the fire. It's dancing along the ground and taunting me. It's taking my father into its clutches and then spitting out his limbs, one by one. Mutilated and seared by the blaze. Even though my father is long gone, I can still hear his screams. My mind keeps playing the different ways he died over and over again. The scene switches so quickly, the deaths even more severe than the last, but his screams are constant. They're crying for me to help him, why didn't I help him? They're horrible inhuman shouts, only stopping to beg for me, to ask me why I let him die. Why did didn't I get there soon enough? Why did I let this happen? Why wasn't I quick enough? Strong enough? Good enough?

The last cry though, it breaks me out of my horror infested mind. It asks me why I'm not helping my mother. It yells at me to get to her, to stop wallowing. I'm not the one who died, why am I not doing something? Helping someone?

I roughly get off the ground. My eyes adverting themselves from the terrible flesh ridden objects around me. I'm stumbling, my lungs burning from smoke inhalation. Eventually, when I'm far enough away, I break into a coughing fit. My body bends over with coughs until I puke. It's black and sooty, but I step around it and use my arm to harshly wipe my mouth. I jog for my house, my motions sloppy and uneven. The farther from the offending area I get, the easier it is to breathe and run.

I eventually see my large home, so far undamaged, looming over me. I rush to the door and fumble with the doorknob. It's stuck and I can't open it. I release a cry of frustration until I remember the key. I reach into my pocket and rip it out. Fear and adrenaline are coursing through my veins. Shaky hands finally manage to unlock the door and push it open. Despite the loud sounds from outside, my house is deathly quiet. My housekeeper has the week off, and the whole downstairs is empty.

Remembering my task, I take off. I'm up the stairs in a flash and racing into my mother's room before my brain even registers my body's movements. She is frozen in the exact same state I saw her in last. Curled under her covers, unmoving except for deep breaths. I dash over to her, I'm yelling things at her, rocking her body back and forth. I even grab her shoulders to try and hoist her up.

She's so deep in morphling I don't think she can even open her eyes, but I try anyway. "Mother! Mother! Wake up! We need to get out of here!" I shout at her. After a moment her eyes open and blink lazily.

"M- Maysilee?"

More tears stream down. I grip her arm and shake her a little. "No mother, it's me, Madge. We need to get out! They're bombing us!" My vision's clouding and I'm keeping down choking sobs. "They're bombing District Twelve!" I scream.

I try to sit her up, but she just slumps back down. She's blinking and comprehending my words. Slowly, but surely, my mother is coming out of her drugged state. "Madge? Honey, what do you mean?" she mumbles.

"We have to get out!" I yell. It takes her a moment, but then she struggling with me. Fighting the effects of the morphling and trying to move herself correctly.

"I can't! I'm sorry, I can't do it," she cries. After a few more futile movements, her body goes limp. "Where's your father?" she asks hopefully.

I'm still tugging at her, but I stop. I look at her and know my eyes show my pain. "He- he couldn't... he didn't…" I sob. She gazes at me sadly.

"Sweetie, I can't do it, save yourself. Save yourself."

I widen my eyes and look at her in disbelief. "No mother! No! I'm not leaving you here!" I wail.

"You have to! Save yourself for me! Please Madge, I love you! I can't… I can't die knowing I took you with me," she whimpers. With an expression of resignation, my mother stares at me seriously. "Please, let me live on through you."

I'm trembling and shaking my head. But I hug her to me, crushing her close. I deliver a tearful kiss to her cheek and lay her back down. "I love you too, mother, so much. I'll make sure no one forgets about you. Both of you," I smile sorrowfully.

She nods and looks to her bedside table. "Open that drawer, take what's in there. Your father and I, we were working with… someone. If you get to that place, they'll help you."

I look at her, confused, but open the drawer and stare at the objects before clutching them to my chest. "Thank you, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I love you. I'll do my best, I promise," I choke out.

With one last loving and melancholy look, she turns away. I walk out of her room and then bound down the steps on shaky legs until I'm in my kitchen, wiping tears away.

_No, no more tears Madge. No more._

I will the sadness away and set my face straight with grim determination. I grab my empty school bag from the pantry and stuff it full. I grasp whatever I see and don't even notice that I slip a knife inside of my bag. When it's full to the brim, I place my mother's things inside and close it. Once it's fastened around my back, I dash for the door. I make it to my lawn, before I glance back. I take in my home since birth and the home where my family lived. It's so depressing that I have to turn away, but not before mentally committing it to memory.

I'm running through the streets, stopping to help who I can. I'm trying to get to the Seam because it looks like they're aiming for the Town first. Also, Katniss showed me a way to get under the fence there.

When I get to the Seam, everyone's mostly out of their houses. The doors stand ajar and I only pause when I see one closed. It only takes some rough knocking and the ones that are left are out of their homes. Everyone in Town is close enough to see the blast, so I don't need to stop and inform people there. I'm almost to the gate when the second explosion occurs. It's toward the front of the Seam. The side closer to Town.

I debate whether to stick to my course or go back and help. My instinct is to escape, but I fight it. Everyone's running to the meadow and I stop abruptly. My feet skid to a halt, causing people to run into me, they grumble and push past me. I make a complete one eighty and start bustling straight for the fire. As I make my way, people are yelling at me. Telling me I'm going the wrong way, I need to turn around, that I'm fixing to get myself killed. I overlook their warnings and only run harder. My body isn't physically fit for this, I never needed to exert so much energy in my cushy life style. The only thing keeping me going is adrenaline.

I'm almost to the source. It's already getting hot and the smoke is thick. There are people everywhere, some trapped under things, others barely moving along. I'm pulling people out from under the wreckage, letting people lean on me until they are far enough away from the flames, and desperately trying to lift objects off of people. Finally, when I've helped everyone I can, I'm close enough to the fire I start to gasp. My breathing is hardened and my body's dripping with sweat. I start to turn around and run smack dab into someone.

Gale.

I look up into his gray eyes hooded by dark hair. I'm about to say something when I start to cough. I wrap my arms around myself and the hacking trails off to small chokes. Large hands beat my back until my chest clears up. I look back up and see the Everdeen family behind him. He must have gone back for them and had to pass through here to get to the gate.

"Madge, what are you doing here?" he asks incredulously. It takes me a minute to comprehend his question. I gesture to the ruins around me and then stare at him obviously.

"They needed someone, and no one was helping them. Someone needed to help them, Gale," I rasp out in a scratchy voice. He looks at me, a certain respect glowing in his eyes, but it's gone in an instant. I'm not even sure if I saw it.

"We need to get to the fence, Madge. Come on!" He pulls roughly on my arm and I cry out in pain. We both look down and notice a long gash on my forearm. "Where did you get that?"

"I- I don't know," I state. Because I don't, I'm not feeling anything right now. Even the short burst of pain I had when he yanked on my arm is gone. I wonder how I am faring. If I didn't notice that, what else is wrong? Sucking in a breath, his hand tenses and then gently drops my arm. For the first time, Gale takes a good look at me.

He swears lowly and looks worried. "We need to go," he shouts to the Everdeens and me. Looking back to Mrs. Everdeen, he mouths something that I don't see.

That's when I hear it. I don't even think Gale noticed it with his hunter hearing, but I did. A small cry echoes out of a house near me. I tell myself I didn't hear, but I did. I did, and I can't just brush it off. Because it sounded like someone, afraid and scared.

Gale's so busy talking with the Everdeens he doesn't notice me as I sneak away from him. I quietly trot off, I'm already halfway through the door of the house when I hear a chorus of yells behind me. I look back and they're shouting my name. Worry creased into their faces and hands waving hectically. Gale takes a step forward, but now I'm already in the house. He's running towards me, I'm about to open my mouth to call out to him, when the doorway crumbles in. The whole front of the house tumbles down in front of me. I just narrowly miss the destruction. Woods splinters and falls, trapping me from the outside world. Sparks fly in every direction, some landing on my skin and in my hair. I take a deep surprising breath and feel the dirty and hazy air. I stare at the collapsed structure before switching my attention to the rest of the house. It's small and burning rapidly. I try not to vomit when I see the glassy eyed man on the floor. I know he's dead, there's a wooden beam across his back. His body is twisted in an impossible way and his spine is pressed inward.

I dodge falling litter and avoid large flames. When I finally make it to the back of the home, there's even more smoke. I cover my mouth and nose then move on. There's a door, it's closed, the handle colored bright orange.

I can hear it more clearly now, the cries. Screams of fear and coughs of poor air. It forces more released adrenaline in my system and I look around. There's a threadbare rug on the floor. I pick up quickly and use it to twist knob. I feel the warmth beneath my hand despite my protection, but it's not unbearable. I enter a smoke filled room. Instantly, my lungs start puffing out complicated breaths. I can barely see and my eyes are burning. My nose is stinging from the fumes and I already feel lightheaded.

I trip over nothing and lumber through the room trying to find the child, only using my ears as guidance. The voices are louder. Finally I feel a small hand and an arm. I pull it toward me until I can see the body in front of me.

A little girl, no older than four or five is standing groggily in the corner of the room. She has board straight black hair and grey eyes. Her breaths wheeze and it's a miracle she's still alive. She stops screaming when she sees me and sort of collapses against my body. I pick her up weakly and place her on my hip. I'm not that strong right now, but I don't think this little girl could walk more than a couple feet. I'm shuffling toward the exit when another little voice sounds to my left.

I open my mouth and let out a few hacks, and then reach blindly for anything. This time I grasp hair. I feel downward to a neck and then a shirt. I grab ahold and yank the person to me.

This time it's a boy, an exact copy of his sister, but older. I take his arm and he stumbles after me as I push onward to the door. Both children are sobbing and wobbly from the smoke. In truth, I feel my own strength waning, but I keep onward. I look frantically around when I'm finally in the hallway.

No voices other than ours, so I decide I really do need to find a way out. I'm staggering through the house, my lungs full of smoke and my skin perspiring profusely. I notice a table and think I'm in the kitchen. Finally my saving haven comes into view. A window. I'm given renewed hope and use my found energy to rush to it. I'm lucky the force of the bomb has already burst it open. Its shattered and only shards of glass are left. I knock them out, and then push the little boy through. I climb through difficultly and land roughly on my feet. I'm into the backyard, girl slung across my back, when I feel the tremble of another bomb. I look and see a large fire breaking out in the left side of Town. This is where I know my house stands.

My heart squeezes painfully and guilt is wrapping itself around me in a thick blanket. My eyes brim with tears. Images of my mother, scared and afraid, fill my mind. Burning to death, breathing in smoke until she dies, and waiting for someone to save her.

I furiously blink away the water in my eyes, and come back to reality. I'm on the exact opposite wall from where the front door is. Once I get my bearings, I start running for the meadow. A kid on my back and another beside me, I hold onto both for dear life. My backpack is squished awkwardly under my arm, but I don't have time to fix it.

My steps are shaky and my vision's blurry. It takes more effort than anything I have ever done, but I make my feet move. I have to keep going and keep the child next to me from falling down. It's a blessing when I comprehend the trampled grass on my legs and see a huge gaping hole where part of the fence used to be. Everyone is already long gone into the woods, I don't know how they knocked down the gate, but I'm thankful.

We're running, tripping, and stumbling through the trees. We finally make it far enough into the forest that we can rest. I'm careful when setting the girl down, I situate her and the boy under a tree. When I've taken off my pack, I also lower myself gently down.

I'm settled between them, the girl on my right and the boy on my left. They're already drifting off. Smoke inhalation and exhaustion wear us all out. From the distance, I see District Twelve on fire, smoke and flames swallowing everything. Silent tears stream down the children's faces. I continuously wipe them off and wrap a soothing arm around both of them.

They're dead sleep in a matter of minutes.

I stay awake and watch my home burn.

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. Oh my gosh, it hurt so bad to say that! See what I do for you people? Well, it's because I love you.**

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**Gale POV**

The Everdeens are already out of their house and running toward me by the time I turn onto their street. Prim is holding her cat, Buttercup, tightly across her chest. I see bags and medical supplies in their hands.

Mrs. Everdeen sends an acknowledging nod in my direction as Prim concentrates on soothing Buttercup. Her frantic pace keeps up with mine despite the fact she is carrying a cat and a backpack.

Passing through Town had me worried again, they were obviously targeting Town residents first. The Justice Building was blown up along with some of the surrounding businesses. I can't help but wonder if the mayor and his family were still inside. I know I keep trying to rid myself of these thoughts, but they're still there. What if they _didn't_ get out?

The second bomb has me even more worried, it hit the part dividing the Seam and Town. We are going to need to run through there to get to the meadow. If it were just me, I would probably do more to help, but it isn't. I have Katniss's family to look out for. I have my family to protect. The Victor's Village is undamaged, I had no trouble getting there and getting out, but our steps are leading us closer and closer to the impact zone.

The first thing I hear are the screams. They're terrifying and scarring. The kind of sound that will stay with you, ring in your ears at night. Keep you from sleeping peacefully for the rest of your days. Then I see the damage.

Bodies litter the ground. Burnt, charred, and melting. Some, you can make out the cuts and injuries, but others… you can't even tell they're human. There aren't as many wounded lying around as I expected, either people helping them or the bomb didn't leave many survivors. I stop and help who I can, but there's few.

Debris and remains are everywhere, I can only see destruction.

I'm about to turn around and tell the Everdeens to just run for the meadow, there's no one left to offer our aid to, when someone hurtles into my chest. I look down.

Madge Undersee.

So she didn't escape to the Capitol. She's here, just like the rest of us. Her face is dirty and her hair is coming out of its usually neat ponytail, the only thing that gives her away as the girl I sell strawberries to, is the blond hair and determined features. She widens her eyes in surprise and opens her mouth to say something. Then she starts coughing.

It's a horrible, retching sound. It resonates deep from her chest. I'm surprised she is not hacking up a lung. I wince at the thought and feel a little sorry for her. Any empathy is instantly washed away when I realize that this Town girl can't even make it to the meadow. She can't make it out on her own and hold herself together. It infuriates me, she should be able to, but because of her privileged life, she is weak.

I start pounding Madge on the back, probably a little harder than necessary, but now her coughs are just annoying. I feel no sympathy.

"Madge, what are you doing here?" I ask, because honestly, I want her to ask for help. To finally have to need something for once in her life. She looks up with glassy eyes when her chokes die down, after a couple of blinks she seems to come back to reality.

She stares at me blankly, like I should already see the answer. She gestures wildly to her surroundings. "They needed someone, and no one was helping them. Someone needed to help them Gale," she answers. Her voice is scratchy though, and unlike her. I wonder how much smoke she has inhaled from staying here so long to rescue people. Now I understand why there weren't many injured left.

Respect washes over me like a refreshing wave, she did what most people wouldn't do. Didn't do, from what I saw. She went back and helped, I don't know how far she got, or if she got far at all, but she came to do what she could. To do what she could for _S__eam_ residents much less. People who are supposed to be below her, people she should be too snobby to even consider. Guilt also eats at me. She is not weak or needy, far from it.

I hide my feelings before she can notice them, because now isn't the time. Her eyes tell me she hasn't seen anything I've just thought and that she doesn't think what she did is such a great feat. The tone from her words was enough to give me the impression she thought anyone would do what she did. She's not expecting recognition. It only makes me feel more respect, because Madge doesn't want anything in return, she just did what she did because it was the right thing.

I look around and see burning buildings and black skies illuminated by the flames. It's clear we need to get out. Now.

I grip her arm and yank her towards me. "We need to get to the fence, Madge. Come on!" I yell to her, hoping she'll get the message. Instead, I hear a startled yelp of pain. I freeze and trail my eyes down the length of my arm to hers. Underneath my hand, a deep cut runs along the length of her forearm. She looks at it in wonder, as if this is this the first time she's seen it too. I see her lifting the confused gaze to me and I stare back. "Where did you get that?" My voice comes out more steady than I feel inside.

She glances to her arm and then to mine, like she questioning it for answers. In the end Madge shakes her head. "I-I don't know," her voice rasps.

She doesn't know? How can she not know? I let go of her arm and decide to look at her again, _really _look at her. If she didn't even register the pain in her arm, what other injuries are there?

I slowly analyze every inch of her body. Her messy blond hair is stained with blood, I can't tell what belongs to her and what doesn't. Small cuts speckle across her face and neck. Dirt is on her skin and clothes, along with black smudges and crimson blots. A small amount of blood is dripping from Madge's ear and her eyes are cloudy. There are tear stains on her cheeks making a clear path through the muck. A long slash across her collar bone is infested with particles from the blast. Her arms have splinters and small pieces of wood lodged under the skin. Her hands are so red it looks like she dipped them in paint. The injury on her arm is only adding to the treacherous fluid coating her body.

My eyes meet her torso and stomach. I can't even identify if there's any harm done there. Blood soaks through her dress, the small pack on her back is almost gunk free, but she isn't. Filth marks black and brown colors across the skirt, I'm not even sure what color the fabric used to be. Madge's legs have cuts on her knees, scrapes on her legs, and more splinters. Welts are all across her body as if she was struck by flying wreckage from the bombs. Her shoes are covered in mud and trash.

I mutter a few choice words under my breath. She doesn't notice, in fact, her attention seems elsewhere. Her eyes distant, but still in the present. I hear myself telling everyone that we need to get out of here, but while Madge is distracted, I take the opportunity to twist my body toward Mrs. Everdeen. I mouth something to her I sincerely hope the battered girl in front of me doesn't see.

'_We need to get her help.'_

Mrs. E casts me a concerned look and glances to where Madge is standing, but then a horrified expression contorts her features.

I whip my body back around just in time to see Madge sprinting into a burning building. I can feel my own face constrict into horror, I immediately lurch after her. I'm yelling her name, asking her what she's doing, but she ignores me. Already in the house, she turns around to me with a sad, but fierce look in her eyes. I'm almost there when I see the whole front part of the house collapse. Then, just like that, I'm shielded from Madge's face forever.

I can't even move anymore, my face is frozen. I feel sadness, regret, and anger. Why would she do that? How could she do that? What was she thinking? My breath has been taken away and it feels like someone punched me in the gut. I don't know what to do, my mind keeps replaying the house collapsing onto Madge. I see her quick and surprising death, but I also see her focused face before it dropped on her. What was so important she had to run into a burning house?

I'm taken out of my thoughts by a small hand on my arm.

I look down to Primrose Everdeen, a sorrowful and comforting expression smooths over her features. I see past it though, underneath it is shocked fear and disbelief. I'm taken back to our situation and know I need to put this in the back of my mind. I can deal with it later, but right now, I still need to get Prim and her mother out. I need to get the people I can still save out.

My thoughts snaps back into the set determination it was in before, I brush all my emotions out of forethought and concentrate on our current mission.

"You ready to go?" I ask them.

"Gale…" Mrs. Everdeen says worriedly.

"Are you ready to go?" I force through closed teeth. I don't need to be reminded of what just happened, we need to get out. After a moment, she nods and looks at me with pitiful eyes.

I take off without looking back at them. I know they're following me though, I know without needing to see. We gradually get away from the fire to the part of the Seam that is relatively undamaged. I pass empty houses with doors swinging wide open. I hear the footfalls and know we're almost there. I push myself faster when I see the meadow.

A crowd stands close by the gate, they struggle at it desperately, and some attempt to climb over it, but are stopped by the barbed wire. A few families aren't even trying, they've all but given up. They, instead, tend to the injured or hold their loved ones close. I push through the crowd with Prim and Mrs. Everdeen at my heels as they try to stay close behind me, even though the thick masses of people make it difficult. I search for my family and feel relief when I see them standing near the edge of the people. They must have not been able to get through the crowd and under the gate. I stop briefly to point at them. The Everdeens understand my message and instantly make their way toward my mother. Continuing on, I near the front and look up at the tall fence wonderingly. We can't all go under it, but we definitely can't crawl over it.

A rough tug on my shoulder reveals my friend Bristel looking at me with a halfhearted smirk. "Hey, on my way out, I grabbed the explosives from where we stashed them," she says.

I think back quickly. All the miners, including myself, were planning an uprising. We even took the time to make and acquire the little weapons we could. With some effort we were able to put together some small bombs and hid them carefully in some of the miners' houses. At that moment I could've kissed Bristel for remembering them at a time like this. I won't though, I view her as a sister and we _really_ don't have the time.

"Did you set them up?" I asked hurriedly. She nods and gestures to the ground at random locations.

"Yeah, but I need someone to help me get the crowd away and set them off. Thom's here, but we're still one man short."

I clap Bristel determinedly on the back. "As soon as I get the people cleared away we'll set them and then get fence down. Good luck," I say grimly. I turn to the bulk of the bodies, I put my hand up to my mouth and whistle loudly. Some calm down while others keep trying to shout wildly or grip at the fence. I'm glad the power's out and they aren't being electrocuted right now. "Everyone! Hey, everyone, listen up. Stop, and listen for a second," I yell loudly. More people grow silent and it is quiet enough for me to talk understandably now. "Back away. We're going to get the gate down, I promise. But we need you to get away. Now!" I bark. Instantly, people start backing up. Not knowing what we're planning, but understanding they're out of options. They really don't have a choice but to trust us.

When they are at a relatively safe distance, I nod to Bristel, who's standing a couple feet or more away from me. She nods to Thom, and five seconds later, we're all running for our lives away from the fence.

A large boom sounds behind me. Not as loud as the bombs dropping onto our district, but loud. I turn around just in time to see a large section of fence swaying. It wobbles and turns wildly, and then with a metallic screech, it falls to the ground. Everyone works to pull the hunk of metal away from the escaping path. Then, when I am with my family, we quickly get out of there.

Trees and twigs brush against our skin as we get away. I grab Katniss's weapons and mine from hollows in trees and logs as we pass them. We are all running away, most people stick to the west while others branch off. I find a lot of people staying in a large group as they run.

No matter where we run to, we are all just trying to survive.

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**Yes, Bristel is indeed a girl. Most stories on fanfiction show Bristel as a guy, but on The Hunger Games Wiki it says Bristel is a girl. I checked a few other places and it turns out she is actually supposed to be a girl. I'm sorry if I caused any i****nconvenience when you read this! **Please review! I will send you a piece of the next chapter if you do! Don't be afraid, I love any and all feedback :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not, I repeat, do **_**not**_ **own The Hunger Games. Sad, isn't it? Oh, well. I'll survive…**

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**Love you all! Enjoy the story my fantastic readers!**

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I must have drifted of sometime during the night. I am awake now. It takes a moment to remember where I am. When I do, when everything catches up to me, I see fire behind my closed eyelids. I see red, yellow, and orange. I try to force myself back into the black abyss, but it's futile. I'm awake.

Slowly, I blink my eyes open to bright daylight. They're sore and itchy. The beams of the sun hurt to look at even through the shade of the trees. I go to rub at them, and stop when I feel my arms wrapped around someone on either side of me, I look left and right. I'm met with children's faces. I find my neck hurts, but ignore it in favor of remembering. Finally, everything from the time Katniss shot her arrow to the moment we collapsed at this tree rushes back to me.

This time, I look more considerably at these kids. They're relatively unhurt, but dirty. Still asleep, their faces have yet to show the emotional damage. I see burn marks and charred edges on their clothing. Black hair hangs straight over small innocent faces. Even through their loose and grime covered clothes I can see their small thin frames. It takes me a minute to comprehend that I am going to need to care for these children.

Without even thinking about it, I know I will do everything I can to keep them alive.

I gently unhook my arms from them and painfully stand up. I look down to my blood soaked dress, I hope most of it is from helping people and not from me. I stretch and wince when I find my whole body aches. I look down to a nasty and deep cut across my collar bone, it matches the one on my arm. I don't think they are that bad, but they hurt and are an unpleasant swollen red. Other than a few deep slices, sore limbs with welts, and horrid splinters, there are no other injuries. The only thing I'm worried about is infection.

I don't know anything about that. I don't know anything about the woods. Katniss took me out a couple times, but besides missing a bunch of animals with her bow, sloppily skinning a rabbit, and almost eating a poisonous berry, I didn't really do anything.

I did, however, go swimming with her in a pond nearby. She said the water is so clean you can drink it. It even looked cleaner than the water that comes out of the faucets in my house.

I look uncertainly at the kids. I can't leave them alone, but I really shouldn't look like this when they wake up. It will scare them to no end.

I settle for using my hands to wipe off what I can. I get a good amount of dried blood, filth, and muck off. I rub my cheeks and arms roughly to get them a resemblance of clean. Once I start, I want to cry. I want all the reminders and the grief off of me. I scrub harder and focus in all the dirt on me. Flashes of the bombing pass through my mind. It's all fire and blood. I see bodies, distorted beyond recognition. I see my parents broken beyond repair. I see people, children, running for their lives. I furiously scratch my skin as I bite my lip to the point of blood. I want it _off_. I don't want to see this. I don't want to remember.

All of a sudden, I stop. I know I'm going into hysterics and that's not what anyone needs. It's not what these kids or I need. It won't help. It will probably do more bad than good. I don't have the luxury of crying anymore and I don't have the right to go into a panic. I shake the ribbon out of my hair. I use the material to tie my hair into a tight ponytail. It feels stupid having such a rich fabric out here in the woods. What good will it do? Complement my stained dress?

I remember the pack that's still on my back. I hesitantly pry it off and swing it around to look at it. It's a little misshaped from being abused in the bombing, but it's still in good condition. I stare at it for a minute and am overcome with a sense of guilt. I'm reminded of my mother and the items she gave me before I left her. But I can't fall apart, so with a shake of my head, I open the bag. The objects my mother gave me are stuffed in with the food. I take them out gently. The compass is in good condition and the map has creases from being used so often. I carefully lay them out on a rock and unfold the diagram.

My mouth nearly drops. The map, the whole map, is a direct route to District Thirteen. There are curious little marks here and there, but the map itself is definitely to be used to get someone to District Thirteen. I don't understand. Why would my mother give me a map that led to a bombed and deserted terrain?

As I examine the marks on the paper more carefully, I realize they appear to be… entrances?

Could District Thirteen really be alive and well? Did my parents have some secret information that no one else knew? Is there a possibility that the Capitol didn't completely destroy them?

Most importantly, am I willing to risk everything on a whim that it just _might_ exist?

I know I'm staring stupidly down at that crucial piece of paper, but I can't get my thoughts together. If I leave the area where I know the land better than any random location, there's a chance the kids and I won't make it. If we say here though, there's a chance we won't make it anyway. At least if we go there is a possibility of crossing civilization again, we are sitting ducks if we stay here. There is no doubt Capitol people are searching for survivors to eliminate at this very moment.

I make up my mind. My parents loved me and they knew what they were doing. I need to trust in the belief that they had a plan. My mother must have known something would happen that we would need to escape if she kept this map at her bedside table. I wrap up the map and compass and place them back in my bag. I ruffle through the rest of my things. I pull out a half full water bottle that must have been lying on the counter. The rest of the supplies are all food that's been crammed inside, except for a knife I find placed hastily in the bag. I take it out and stare at the piece of metal in my hand.

Will I need to use this? What if we're attacked by animals or by a Capitol officer? I don't know if I could kill anyone. I had trouble skinning the rabbit that Katniss shot. I weigh the weapon in my hand and grip the handle firmly. I can do this. I will do this. There's not enough food in my bag for three people to survive on very long, especially if we're making the trek to Thirteen. I will need to take care of them. If I was by myself, I don't know if I would be able do this, but I'm not. I need to toughen up.

As I finish rationing out the food, I figure there's enough to last a few days, maybe a week if we eat scarcely. I should've grabbed something bigger to carry this around in, but almost no one was thinking straight during the bombing so I don't waste time on it. I notice one of the kids waking up and move more near them. I stop short of being close enough to touch them because I don't want to scare anyone. I crouch down so I am eye level with both of them. The boys the first to open his eyes blearily. As he slowly focuses in on everything, I see panic in his features. I don't move for fear of startling him.

"Who are you?" he asks somewhat calmer than his expression suggests.

"I'm Madge," I answer quietly, waiting for his reaction. He appears confused, I can see the puzzlement in his eyes as he stares at me.

"You're the mayor's daughter," he states. I try not to roll my eyes at that, but then I remember. I'm not the mayor's daughter anymore, because the mayor's not alive. Instead of trying not to roll my eyes, I'm suddenly holding back tears.

"Yes," I finally manage to get out. It sounds much stronger than I feel, which is good I guess. It takes a moment, but my head is clear and I'm able to keep the tears in.

"W- Where are my parents?" he questions fearfully while taking a look around us. He drinks in the trees, the dirt, and the sunny sky. The cheery weather doesn't fit the mood, but it's just proof that life will go on with or without us. He looks next to him and inches closer to his sister. Whether it's for his comfort or for her protection, I don't know. Maybe both.

"You don't remember?" I test, dreading the worst. I don't know what's more horrible. Him remembering that horrific event or me having to explain it.

"N- No, I don't," he nearly sobs. I see the tears welling in his eyes, and I reach a tentative hand out to him. He flinches away from me and I recoil instantly. "What happened?" he whispers with wide, scared eyes.

I consider lying to him. I think about at least warping the truth into something that is less scary, but I know in the end it won't help. He needs to know the gravity of the situation. More than that though, he _deserves_ the truth.

"We were bombed." It's quiet for a while he's trying to absorb the news, but how can he, when even I can't? "What exactly can you remember?" I question softly.

"There was this large... boom. Everything was shaking, it felt like our house was going to fall down. A- After that, Dad… some wood fell from the ceiling and he got hit with it. He's dead, isn't he?" I nod sadly. I expect tears, but instead I'm met with a look of relief. I'll have to ask him more about that later. "Then, mom, she took us to our room. She said we'd be safe there. But we weren't. She told us she'd be right back to stay in there with us, but after a while, she didn't come back. I tried the door, but it burnt me. We couldn't get out." He holds out the palm of his left hand to show nasty red skin.

I'm worried. I don't know how to deal with burns. As far as I know his injury's not too terrible, but it's not good either.

I think back to that bright orange door handle. Of course it'd be too hot to touch. Where was their mother? Something must have happened to her. Maybe she went to see what was wrong and got hurt.

"Is that it?" I prod.

He bites his lip in thought. "Is she dead too?"

"I don't know, I didn't see her," I answer sorrowfully. He nods, but doesn't look reassured. I don't blame him.

"You. You saved us. I remember, you got us out," he murmurs. I'm sure the surprise is evident on my face. I didn't know he would remember that. They were both pretty out of it when I got there.

"Yes, I did," I finally confirm quietly after a moment of silence. He looks at me as if seeing me in a new light.

"Why?"

I'm taken aback. I wasn't expecting that question. In a logical sense, I suppose it's a good thought, but now that I'm confronted with it… I really don't have an answer. I come up with the only thing that passes through my head while asking myself that same enquiry.

"It was the right thing to do," I say slowly. My tongue feels loose, like it doesn't know its own words. "I heard you guys and I just couldn't…_ not_ do anything." He nods as if this is an acceptable answer, but still stares at me a little doubtfully. I switch tactics. I want him to trust me. If I keep hounding him for information he may never do that. Also, he needs food in him. After we clean up, we'll need to set out. I'm just waiting for the little girl to wake up. "Do you want something to eat?"

He nods eagerly, but right after he looks like he's considering something. He narrows his eyes suspiciously at me as I get up and move over to the bag. I pull out three granola bars. One for each of us.

I hand him one and settle back down in front of them. He looks at it curiously and feels the wrapper with probing hands. Suddenly it dawns on me. "It's a granola bar," I supply for him.

"Granola?" he asks incredulously. I resist the urge to laugh. I think it would offend him at the moment.

"Yes, in my house we eat them in bars like that. They have honey and nuts in them. It's supposed to be good for you and it tastes pretty decent too," I explain. Unlike most people, he doesn't comment on my wealth. Maybe he realizes I have nothing left too. I unwrap mine and take a small bite to show him it's not poisonous or inedible.

I watch in wonder as he hesitantly pries it open. It's actually quite comical as he sniffs it distrustfully and gazes at it with skeptical eyes. Finally, he takes a piece of the granola into his mouth. I smile as his eyes widen in surprise and he takes a bigger bite. Pretty soon it's all gone.

"That was really good," he says sheepishly. I smile warmly at him and offer the rest of my granola bar wordlessly. He'd most likely gone longer since his last meal than I had. It probably wasn't as filling either. "Are you sure?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm not that hungry," I encourage. This time, he takes longer to eat the food. He savors it and when it's eaten halfway he stops to look at me. "What's your name?" I say when he's done chewing.

"Carson and this is my sister, Avella," he tells me while motioning toward his sleeping sibling. Clearly, he must trust me more than he did a few minutes ago if he's willing to tell me his and his sister's names. I decide to go a bit further.

"How old are you?"

"Ten," he answers almost immediately. I try not to grin at the proud light in his eyes. Ten is a good age, a wonderful age. A time when you think you own the world and know everything. I know I was very inquisitive when I was ten, I was also very stubborn. My thoughts darken as I remember that his childhood is cut short. Cut short by the Capitol.

"And how old is your sister?" I question to steer my mind away from that train of thought.

"Four," he replies sadly. I nod. It's going to be hard traveling with a four year old. Especially if were making it all the way to Thirteen. I take the time to study him. My first thought was that he was almost identical to his sister, but now I see that's not true. His black hair is a shade lighter than hers. It is also a little more curly than her long and straight hair. His eyes have blue mixed into the grey. While I have yet to see the girl's eyes, I would bet that they're not the exact same.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" I murmur. I see more suspicion, but it's only to be expected.

"I guess."

"When your sister wakes up, can you give her the granola bar? As soon as she's been fed, we're going to a nearby pond for water and to clean," I explain.

I get back to the bag and finishing packing it up. The girl wakes up sooner than I expect. I look at them as I finish up, I notice the boy talking quietly with her. She eating silently and hanging on every word that comes out of Carson's mouth. I don't interfere, though I'm scared what he is telling her isn't good things. Maybe they're forming an escape or a plan to attack me? I huff and concentrate on brushing the soil off of my already unsalvageable dress. Of course they wouldn't attack me, they're just kids. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why it's so important I win their approval. Maybe it's because I know it will make traveling easier or because we need to get along. Even as I think that, I know it's not completely true.

I want them to trust me, because nobody's ever trusted me for _me_. No one has ever relied on the fragile little mayor's daughter for anthing. I want someone to trust me, not because of my status, but because of who I am. Just Madge.

They both stand up eventually and walk over to me. The girl looks up with the darkest grey of eyes I've ever seen and grins. I smile back at her hesitantly. Perhaps what he told her wasn't all bad?

"Hi Miss Madge," she says sweetly.

"Hello Avella," I greet back politely.

"My brother says you're really pretty and are going to help us, is that true?" she questions innocently.

"Avella!" Carson hisses from behind her. I can't hold in a laugh. I let a short chuckle escape, but do manage to cover my mouth with my hand. I sober at her brother's scowl and lean down in front of Avella.

"Yes, I'm here to help you."

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**Aww! Now obviously, Madge doesn't know how to be a substitute mother and that will show later. Sorry if anyone didn't like how she interacted with the kids. I actually liked writing it and it was sort of necessary. Please review, if you do, I will provide a preview of the next chapter! I adore any commentary!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. It's utterly disappointing and I feel like a complete failure, but it's true. **

**I would like to thank those who reviewed, it was a big motivation for me: ****RoryFaller, EpicStories339494, lennoxlove, ****TheGoldenHairedMockingjay, anonymous, Insanely Irish, raphaella2000, ****FrogsCanBePrincessesToo, and ****Sjscutie**

**I send a gigantic thank you to my beta, EpicStories339494! :)**

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**Love you all! Enjoy the story my outstanding readers!**

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"I'm back!" I yell to my mother while shifting the heavy game bag on my shoulder.

After escaping farther into the safety of the trees last night, my family and others had finally managed to settle down. A few people broke off to go their own way, but surprisingly, most thought it was a good choice to stay with my family. Some people know of my hunting skills, others know of Mrs. Everdeen's medical practice, and a few just don't want to be alone.

Truth be told, I don't really know if this is a good thing or not.

I would never turn them away. I feel honored being able to care for so many people, but mine and Katniss's family come first. It will be hard pulling in enough food to feed so many people. I'd have to say fifteen or twenty people are sticking with us. Rory managed to get up with me this morning and I taught him a few snares. We'll need all the help we can get to feed everyone. Most everyone was still sleeping when I awoke. True to my hunting schedule, I opened my eyes just before the crack of dawn. After teaching Rory the simplest traps to set up, I sent him off to try and catch something.

A lot of the animals have retreated deeper into the woods because of the bombing. It was harder than it should have been to find game, but I came across some after a while. I hauled in a two rabbits, a wild dog that tried to attack me, and an unlucky raccoon. There were a few other smaller animals from my previous traps.

I don't know if this will be enough for everyone, but it will have to work for now.

Greasy Sae is next to my mother and is stoking the fire. I'm glad she got out, life would be too abnormal, or normal depending on your view of Sae, without her. "Sweetie, would you put that over there? I got a fire going, I think we'll have to do stew to feed everyone. Would you get some water from the pond?" my mother requests. She clutches a pot someone thought to grab because it was some special air loom or something. My mother managed to convince them it is better to survive than to preserve the pot.

I smile and nod. My mother is the strongest person I know. Some people think she learned her survival skills from my father, but in truth, she knew a lot of it before she met him. She even got Mrs. Everdeen to come out of her shell enough to treat and _talk_ to the injured. Luckily, we only have a few seriously wounded.

I make my way to the pond where Katniss and I used to go. Sometimes we would fish, but most of the time we would sit and talk. God, I miss her. Maybe I sound like a whiny little girl, but I really do. I wonder what she is doing now. I heard some people talking. They said the power outage occurred all over the district right before the bombing. The Capitol supposedly turned the power off just after she did something rebellious. _Again. _It makes me worried. I know they wouldn't go so far as to pluck her out of the Games and kill her, the Capitol people need their drama, but still. Her life will be even worse hell than it was before.

And what happens when she wins? Her district was bombed. What will she have to go back to? No one knows we, the few survivors left, are out here. How will she take it that everyone she knows is dead? How will she take _Madge_ being dead?

When I think of Madge I'm filled with an intense mixture of guilt, grief, and anger. The anger is justified. It's not really at Madge, though I can't help but feel the slightest amount of rage at her doing something so rash. It's more at the Capitol. Why is it always the Capitol? Maybe not directly, but they took both my father and Madge from me. Two people who never did _anything_.

The grief, oh the grief, it's been eating at me. Not just for her, but for everyone who couldn't get out. Madge though, she haunts my dreams. All last night, I saw those clear and strong blue eyes amongst the flames. She wasn't begging for help or screaming, she was just looking at me. Studying me with an intelligence all her own.

Guilt? There is always guilt. I've lived long enough and have had too many friends and family in mine accidents to know the familiar sensation. Logic? It tells you it's not your fault, but no matter how many times you chant that in your head, it's still there, the guilt. Even though I know, I _know_, there was nothing I could've done, the past is the past, I still think of all the scenarios where I could have saved her. Every possibility runs through my head. If I had done this better, would she be alive? If I hadn't done that, would she be here? If I was faster, stronger, smarter?

The one thought that stays there, the one that never leaves. What if I had _paid more attention_?

Maybe she was just the girl I sold strawberries to. Maybe she was just some random Town girl I felt bad for. Maybe she was just someone with a familiar face.

If that's true, why do I feel so _horrible_?

I growl in frustration. I unclutter my head and think of anything else. Even though we're not being bombed right now, I can't think of these things. I have people to take care of and food to hunt. If I let this get to me, how will I be able to think straight?

I'm so deep in thought I don't notice I've arrived at the pond. I mutter out a curse. Maybe I made it to the pond safely out of habit, but I really should have had a clear head. The forest isn't as bad as the Capitol makes it out to be, but it can still be dangerous.

I fill the large pot up with water before placing it on the grass. I sit down beside it, I'm close enough to the pond edge that the toes of my boots are almost in the water. I really need to just calm down and cool my head. I haven't really rested sense the bombing. I got a few hours of sleep but I don't know if that really counts. I was restless and agitated, I couldn't actually put my mind at ease for a comfortable slumber. The worse part of it all was that I was one of the last to close my eyes on that unforgiving dirt ground. I got to see everyone else drift off, and I'm positive almost no one has received enough sleep. People whimpered pitifully in their sleep. Some called out names and other thrashed around. If I looked close enough, I could see tears streaming down their face. They were crying their sleep. The one time where you should be able to fall away from your thoughts and emotions. That moment of slumber when every worry floats away has been clouded by misery and fear.

I lean over to the edge of the pond and splash water on my face. I rub my eyes and groan. I'm nineteen. Rory is thirteen. Vick is eleven. Posy is five. We don't deserve this. We're too young to have to go through this. They deserve a childhood. Heck, I deserved a childhood. First, they had to worry about the Hunger Games, now they have to worry about finding a home. Surviving in the woods. It's true, the woods are a home to me. I asked Katniss to run away with me in the woods, but now that I'm faced with the situation? It's going to be so much harder than I thought.

I'm hunched over and staring at my reflection in the water. All I see is someone with haunted eyes and lines that shouldn't be on their face yet. Someone who was forced to grow up. I worry that's what my siblings will have to do now, grow up before they should.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch something. It's a strip of color. It's waving in the water and caught on a branch that's halfway into the pond and halfway onto the mud and grass. I scoot closer and stare at the object. I widen my eyes and grit my teeth. It can't be. It can't. It's not possible. Maybe the wind blew it here? Maybe it's from someone else? Maybe I'm hallucinating right now?

I bend my body to the right and reach a tentative hand out. I'm scared to touch it. I'm afraid that if I grab it, it will disappear. Turn out to be my imagination.

I finally get the nerve to pick it up. I lay it in the palm of my hand and bring it closer so I can study it. The thin strip of fabric is dirty and stained. It's wet from the water and it has a slight tear in it. I can still recognize it after all that, but I have to be mistaken.

It's Madge's ribbon. The exact same one that was falling out of her hair just yesterday.

Yesterday? That seems like an eternity ago. Or does it? It also feels like it was only seconds ago.

I know this isn't her ribbon. It's not possible, it just isn't. I don't know whose this is or how it got here, but it's not a dead girl's ribbon. A glimmer of hope bubbles up inside of me even though I know it shouldn't. This means nothing. It doesn't change anything. This could be anyone's. It could have fallen out of their hair when they were running away.

Nevertheless, I pocket the band of fabric and stand up. I carry the pot with both hands and make my way back to everyone. The ribbon feels like it's burning a hole in my pocket, but I refuse to take it out. I reject any thoughts of inspecting it, of seeing if it really is hers.

When I get back to everyone I see everyone has pulled logs and large rocks relatively close to the fire. Some people are talking and conversing, others are mourning and grieving. Bristel and Thom are looking absolutely frightened by my mother as she instructs them to do something for her. I smirk at them behind her back as I set the pot on a log. Bristel narrows her eyes at me in a promise for payback while Thom just looks desperate to get away. I'm happy that we still have this, I'm happy that we can still tease each other after all that's happened.

Thom lives, well _lived_, alone. To my knowledge he helped get a few people out, but he didn't really lose anyone. His father died in a mining accident and his mother died of illness. He's been raising himself sense he was sixteen. Even before that really. His mother died three years ago, but she couldn't support him before that anyway. He's my age.

Bristel is also nineteen. She, however, lived with her father. They both got out and are relatively safe here with my family. Her mother left them a while ago. I don't know if she got out. She lived in the more secluded part of the Seam. No one really heard anything from or about her unless she went into the hob to trade eggs from her chickens. Bristel said her mom couldn't stand her father and that she was an accident. Bristel and her father however, they get along great. It makes me miss my dad when I see them together.

I met both Thom and Bristel before the mines. We did work together though, even swung axes next to each other. Bristel and her father usually worked side by side down there, but we all knew each other sense we were little kids.

My mother turns around and they all but run away to do whatever she asked. My mother looks quite smug with herself until she sees me. "Gale Hawthorne!" she huffs out loudly. I cringe and wait for whatever is about to go down. I see Bristel and Thom silently laughing at me. Bristel looks like she got the revenge she wanted.

"Yes?" I ask.

"Sit down!" she demands. I look at her surprised. What? Did I do something wrong?

"Okay…" I lower myself down onto a rock next to the fire. This time, Greasy Sae is over with her grandchildren. Posy is with them too, and by the look on my little sister's face, she's getting told a very interesting story.

My mother, Hazel, walks over to me. She has a homemade green wood tripod over the fire ready for her use. We had to know how to make them during the winter if the stove wouldn't work. I'm pretty sure my father actually did teach her how to build one before he passed away, because not many people know how to make them. She carefully places the pot of water over the flames and looks at me. Instead of the reprimanding stare I was expecting, she shoots me a concerned gaze.

"Gale, get some rest, you barely slept last night and you've been doing work all day," my mother orders softly.

"I'm fine, mo-"

"Mrs. Everdeen told me what happened," she cuts me off. I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. I don't know how to explain to her what I'm feeling. I don't know if I _want _to explain to her what I'm feeling. So I shut my mouth and watch her as she works. She sighs when it appears obvious that I'm not going to comment. "I'm not going to ask you to tell me what's going through your head right now. I'm not going to hound you about it either. I just want you to know that I'm here. She was your friend, I get that."

"She wasn't my friend," I instantly snap. I feel guilty as soon as the words exit my mouth. We weren't friends… were we? I didn't consider her a friend. I don't know what she thought of me as, but it couldn't have been good. I was a lowly coal miner, not to mention, one who openly hated her.

My mom raises her eyebrows at me. Her gray eyes tell me she doesn't really believe that.

I don't even know if I consider my own words to be true, but it's easier to think they're not a lie. It's easier to believe that she was a snobby rich girl who could never be my friend. Even if, deep down, I know it's not true. Because it's too hard to think that she could have been my friend. I would feel too much grief over it. I wouldn't be able to handle it any better than I am now.

"Alright," my mother says slowly.

She doesn't say anything else, though she definitely wants to.

I huff and stand up. I'm not mad. I just don't want to stay seated where I am. I won't deny that I need to rest, but it's not helpful at the moment. I also won't deny that I'm upset over Madge's death, but I don't want to talk about it. I march off away from everyone else, but not far enough away that I can't hear the chatter of people. I stick my hands in my pockets and feel the texture of the ribbon. Somehow, the smooth, yet dirty and rough, feeling of the fabric soothes me. Leaning against a tree, I sigh and take the material out of my pocket. The hope still lingers under all the anger and sadness. I don't like it.

Yet still, while looking at that familiar ribbon, I can't help but take comfort in that hope.

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**Gale, you were so close to finding her, yet so far away! Now keep in mind Gale doesn't have any idea that Katniss escaped the arena, all anyone knows is that she did something she wasn't supposed to on television and it caused the Capitol to turn the power off. Also, you know the pond in the book? Their closer to it because they all had to run away from the bombing, so it doesn't take as long to get there. I apologize if I didn't get how to do a tripod over a fire right, I googled it, I've never actually cooked over an open fire. Except for smores. But other than that, sorry, I don't live in District Twelve, so I use the stove. :)**

**Leave a review and I shall send you a short excerpt from the next chapter! I adore you all and I adore your thoughts! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. *Sigh* All I have to say is… *Sigh***

**I know, I know, I deserved to be murdered, placed on a stake, and put out for all to mock. Figuratively of course, please don't do that… But I do know that it has been longer than forever since I last updated. I had a lot of crap going on, and then I just lost all inspiration for my story, and I can't believe it's been so long, and… then my laptop broke a couple days after I posted Sacrifice…**

***Sigh* All I can really do is apologize. I am so, so, SO sorry. Especially to all my reviewers, readers, and fans. I really let you down. So here is the next chapter. I don't really deserve for you to read or review this, but if you do, I will take it as a beacon of hope that you do not completely and utterly hate me. I am a disgrace to all the fanfiction authors on here and to Suzanne Collins herself. All Hunger Games fans can commence betrayed glares at me now.**

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I let all my air out in one harsh breath, effectively blowing away the strand of hair in my eyes. I'm starting to regret not going back for my ribbon, but it doesn't matter. It's probably long gone by now and we're too far away to go back for it. My thighs and sides ache from the way I'm pushing my body. The weight on my hip shifts and I try not to topple over from exhaustion. I can feel the little girl I'm holding start to drift off.

How far will we get at this rate? Not very far.

My stomach grumbles, reminding me of my early breakfast and nonexistent lunch. I feel bad. I made the kids only eat only one more granola bar each. We need to ration are food out and stretch it as far as it can go, but how can I resist their hungry faces and skinny figures? A deep, almost maternal, need inside me makes me want to pamper and coddle them. I can't though, and it's frustrating me. The sun is setting and I'm still unsure if we should stop. I insisted to them that we set out today. The sooner we began our trip, the sooner it's over. Now, I'm not so sure. Maybe we needed a day of rest?

No, I shake my head. If I allowed us a day to relax, I would've never set out. I would've stayed there, came up with an excuse day after day of why we couldn't travel.

Still, it's a hell of a lot harder trying to support my earlier decision when I feel as if collapsing on the ground is a good idea. We've taken many breaks and I don't know how far we've gotten or if we've gotten very far at all. I look to my left and see Carson practically dead on his feet. His chin is propped up on his chest and his eyes flutter as if he's trying to stay awake. I have to admire him though, because his legs are moving and he's keeping up with me. Even if it feels like we've barely put any real distance between us and District Twelve.

I nearly drop to my knees when I see a cave in the distance. I don't fall, but only because I feel if I fell down, I wouldn't be able to get back up. With even more perseverance, I add a little more purpose to my step and persistence to my pace. The cave is small, so small you could walk right past it, but three people should be able to fit inside.

We're only a few feet from the entrance when I mentally smack myself. There could be bears or snakes or anything in there. I should check before we go marching in there like we own the place. Without a word, I place Avella softly on the ground. I wince a little at the dirt that gets on her clothes. I need to get over this aversion to being dirty, we're not in some Capitol beauty pageant, we're in the forest. Still, the pond did get most of the dirt out of our clothing and I hate to put it back.

I sigh, because of course, even at a time like this, I still manage to think about clothing. As someone born in Town, I'm used to this train of thought. I never concentrated on my appearance as much as other Town residents, but mother and father had always preached the importance of always appearing proper and well put together at all times. It was essential that we looked our best. And when the Capitol people visited, it was even more vital.

I cautiously inch closer to cave, cocking my head to the side in an effort to hear something. I don't know what to listen for, so all I hear is the sound of the forest. Birds chirping, trees swaying, and wind whistling. Taking a bolder step, I move toward the cave's entrance. I glance around at the inside. It is relatively dark and the lowering sun doesn't help much. I warily walk further into the small cavern. Dead leaves litter the ground and the smell of dirt is more prominent than in the air outside.

I sigh and crouch down. I take a minute to catch my breath.

I want to give up so much. I just want to lie down and never get up. My parents are gone, my only family is _gone_. I have no one. These kids have no one. How am I supposed to care for them when I don't even know how to care for myself? Why didn't they get stuck with someone who could protect them better? Katniss or Gale always knew what to do. I shouldn't have survived the bombing. I was meant to die with my family, but somehow, I cheated fate. A weak, meager, and spoiled little rich girl who only just managed to escape her doom.

A light brush on my shoulder makes me jump to my feet. I whirl around and instinctually lean back.

"Madge?"

I sigh in relief. I thought it had been some kind of animal. Carson and Avella both look up at me with half closed eyes.

"Yes?"

"Is this where we're going to sleep?" Carson asks in a heavy voice. I look to the entrance where there is almost no light anymore. This cave is probably safer than anywhere else.

"Yeah, I think so," I say softly.

"I don't like it in here," Avella whimpers. She is tired and close to tears. I feel horrible that I can't provide a safer environment for them, but I can't.

I lean down to her short height. "Can you sleep in here, just for tonight?" She shakes her head no. "Please?" I beg. Finally, after a moment of great deliberation, she nods. "Thank you," I sigh in relief.

I brush away some of the leaves off the dirty floor and take off my pack. I sit down against the wall and to my surprise, Avella snuggles in next to me. I don't say anything about it for fear of scaring her off. I peer over at Carson who is stumbling over to the opposite wall. He keeps a wary eye on both Avella and me. I know he still doesn't trust me, but it's only been a day. Maybe he will, in time.

As Carson settles down, the sky turns blacker. The small opening to the cave is so dark, I can barely see the trees outside.

It's hard to sleep. I'm tired. My legs and body are sore. My cuts are red and swollen. My eyes feel as if they're going to close any second, but they don't. I stay awake. The beautiful, yet haunting, sounds of the night reach me. The rustle of the trees, the chirping of crickets, and the occasional hiss or growl keep me from closing my eyes.

Walking through the woods today was so different from anything I'd ever done. I had to force myself not to jump at every crunch of leaves made under our feet. It was an endless array of green and brown out there. It was so foreign and unfamiliar.

It was isolated and remote. Even with the infrequent word between the kids and I, it was still strangely secluded. Sure, we came across a few small animals, but it felt like we were all alone out there.

And we were.

We are.

Finally, with my head whirling, I fall asleep.

_I'm glued to my spot, my feet stopping movement of their own will. It is a vast contrast from the running and fleeing people around me. Some yank on my arms or shoulders as they run away, trying to get me to follow them. They stop when they realize it is a futile attempt trying to convince me to escape. I'm rooted and unmovable. The square is almost clear when I start screaming. I'm screaming for my father. I'm cursing and crying and yelling all at the same time._

_My mind catches up with everything going on. Even though in my heart I know it's useless, I run for the burning building. I can feel the intense heat and noxious gas, and I ignore them. I ignore it when I'm close enough that the flames start little licks on my skin and I ignore it as my head dizzies from the smoke. _

_Suddenly a lone figure appears in front of me. He grabs my shoulder and holds me still. Now I can't run for my father. I can't save him. I need to save him._

"_Madge stop."_

"_Gale?"_

"_Madge you have to stop. He's gone," Gale says firmly. I struggle against his grip, but it is useless._

"_I need to save him," I cry. I go limp as my tears increase._

"_You can't. You can't save everyone."_

_Suddenly Gale's face is twisted into the scowl of President Snow. "How can you? You can't even save yourself."_

_The last thing I feel is a pale hand wrapped around my throat._

I shoot up off the rough ground. I'm gasping for breath and wet marks are drying on my cheeks. I scoot away from Avella and wrap an arm around my torso. I reach a shaky hand up to wipe my eyes. I need to make sure I'm here, that I'm alive. I don't know if I was meant to survive, but I know that I did. Snow was wrong. I'm alive.

And what did Gale mean I can't save everyone? Doesn't he know that I already understand that? I know I can't save everyone. I know. I sigh deeply. It was just a nightmare. It doesn't mean _anything_. The feeling of fear and desperation linger in me, but I know, I _know_, it doesn't mean anything. It was just my scarred mind taking a memory and twisting it into something even more terrible than what it already was.

I look at the children sleeping deeply around me.

Maybe I can't save everyone, but I have to save someone. I have to save them, protect them.

I clasp my head in my trembling hands. It is so much to deal with. All of it is coming crashing down. I do the only thing I know how to. I am-_was_-the daughter of a politician. In politics, you need to know how to bury every feeling you have. You need to take it all and shove it under the rug. You need hide it until you're convinced it doesn't exist. I take everything, everything horrible and everything miserable, and trap it behind a front. A front that will stay up no matter what. A front I will keep up until I believe it is real.

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**My apologies to all my readers again. Apologies, apologies, apologies…**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey! So, I know, I know, this is later than I intended to update. I have had a rough time these past couple days, so this chapter was symbolic of letting go. Trying to get by, you know?**

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor have I ever, nor will I ever, own the Hunger Games. **

**Enjoy the chapter!**

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I glance up from my work, ceasing the movement of my hands. Still, I keep the sharpened stick and knife clenched in a strong hold, ready to resume my task.

"Prim," I greet. She nods, sitting down gently beside me on the log.

"Gale," she acknowledges. She peers down at the entwined fingers that rest on her lap. Carefully avoiding my stare, she breathes out heavily.

It is quiet as I study her and wait for her to say something. To say anything. Ask me for help, for a favor, for some advice. Maybe she just wants to sit and talk our situation over, but there is nothing. She is quiet and mute. Even after a few moments of a tense and long quiet, the silence stretches on.

It comes to the point that I start making uncomfortable insinuations.

Maybe I should get her mother? Or my mother? Is it a… _girly_ thing? Is it something about boys? Could she be pregnant?

I feel my face contorting into fear and shock already. Could little Prim be pregnant? She is only thirteen! How can we care for a baby in this environment? Who is the father? Is it Rory? I am going to kill him.

I shake my head, willing those thoughts away. That can't be it. Prim is too innocent and soft for anything of that nature. My face still has an expression of distress as I try to puzzle through any and all possibilities.

"Prim, what is it? What's wrong?" I question, somewhat frantically. I need an answer. I need to know my suspicions aren't correct. Katniss will kill me if she finds out I let Prim get hurt or do something stupid.

"Well, I just-" She stops talking as she tilts her head up to look at me. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she asks, thoroughly confused.

I gulp and will away my anxiety, replacing it with a mask of calm. "No reason, just… stressed," I reply, making sure my voice stays even and composed.

She seems to accept this as an adequate answer as she nods sympathetically. "Anyway, back to what I wanted to talk about," she prods, pushing us back toward whatever it is she needs to tell me.

"Go on," I prompt.

"It's about…" She wrings her hands together nervously. "It's about Madge." I'm still and quiet, unmoving and unspeaking. If it were anyone else I might have brushed them off or just got up and left, but I stay. If Prim says something, she says it with love and honesty. She's not trying to open me up and inspect my insides. Prim keeps to herself. She only interferes when she thinks she is needed. Her wisdom often exceeds her age. If she thinks I need to talk this over, then maybe I do. So I remain on the log and wait for her to go on.

"Yes," I respond, my voice carefully cool and detached.

My mother may have heard about what happened with Madge, but she wasn't there. She doesn't know how it feels to watch someone willingly go into the hands of death. She doesn't understand how it feels, knowing you could have done something to prevent a death.

I have put the incident in the back of my mind, but I still remember it more than I would like to.

"The way she died… it wasn't right," she begins. I bite the inside of my cheek, silently agreeing with her. "But it wasn't your fault. It wasn't mine or my mother's. I was just that, a death." I place the stick on the ground for fear I might break it with my grip. After sticking the knife in my belt loop, I turn fully to face Katniss's little sister. "She made a choice, Gale. I'm not saying it was her own fault, Gale, I'm not. But you have to let it go. Her actions were her own. She was of sound mind when she died. You couldn't have done anything to prevent it."

I sigh, unclenching my fists and furrowing my brow as I begin to speak. "Prim, she was _right_ there. What could have been so damn important that-"

Prim stops me by patting my arm as if I am a small child in a big, big world. "I wonder about that too, Gale. I do, but I also know that I may never know. I've come to terms with that. You should too." I'm about to question her, how does she know? She might have been there, but… I was the one that could have done something-_should_ have done something. Done more.

"How-"

She sighs, gripping the top of the log to keep steady as she leans forward. "When Katniss volunteered for the Hunger Games, I felt guilty. I felt_ really_ guilty. What if I had shown her I was stronger? That I might have been able to win, even I didn't? Would she have stayed home? What if I had found a way to deny her the chance to take my place in the games? I thought about that every day while she was away. Why wasn't I good enough? Why did she take my place? How was I worth more than her in her eyes?" I see Prim's eyes filling with tears. I realize that these wounds are still fresh. Her sister is in the Hunger Games a second time, still fighting because of the actions in her first game. Prim still has to deal with this on a day to day basis.

I suddenly feel ashamed. Here I am, wallowing in my own regret and guilt, when Prim still has to deal with so much.

"Prim, I-"

She cuts me off, staring at me softly. "I know that the situation isn't the same, but the point that I'm trying to make is, sometimes you need to let go. Let go of the people, of the questions, of the guilt. Just try."

I nod and stand. What Prim has said has helped me, but I am not person that easily lets things go. I let them simmer and burn inside of me, fueling my anger and passion. Using them to help keep my family safe.

I pause before taking a step away. I turn around to squeeze Prim's shoulder lightly.

"Thank you," I murmur quietly. She smiles faintly.

I hear her mother calling her, beckoning her over to help her pick herbs and plants. As soon as Prim gets up, I walk off, my thoughts churning in a complicated swirl inside my head.

Let go? Can I do it? I know I've been holding on to more than just what happened with Madge. I've been holding on to our family's fears, to the anger and pain I felt from my whipping, to my father's death. Can I get over it, get over everything?

I bury these thoughts as I see Thom and Bristel heading my way, smiles on their faces. They seem relatively happy, even if I can see a shadow of sorrow looming over them.

"Hey, man, we were thinking of maybe going back to Twelve, seeing if we can salvage anything," Thom informs me. I blanch just thinking about my old home.

"No."

"Gale, come on," Thom whines.

Bristel steps forward, her eyes softer than Thom's, but still resilient. "Gale I know it's only been a few days, but the sooner we check it out, the sooner we can leave it behind us." Her words hit home, as if she has listened to my conversation with Prim. Isn't leaving behind and letting go what I'm supposed to be doing? Still, it's risky.

I shake my head. "No, it's too dangerous. The Capitol would have sent people to check out the grounds, make sure we're dead. We might run into them. And with all the stray people out here, we're likely to get jumped if we're alone."

"You've gone hunting alone since the bombing," Thom points out.

I growl. "That's different, I was armed, you aren't."

"So, just bring your bow and come with us," Bristel suggests.

I'm nearly seething. Why do they not get this? Not get the danger? How are they so calm and naïve?

"The Capitol, what about the people they would have sent to execute the extras, make sure the job was done?"

They are silent, contemplative, and longing. I get it. They want to see their home. They want to let go. I feel that need now. I see what Prim was talking about-how letting go can be healthy. How can I deny them that? But maybe, if they'd just wait a few more days…

"We scope the place out, search for any officials. If we see anything, even a footprint that looks the slightest bit fresh, we'll get out of there." I run a hand through my hair.

Should we go? Is it safe? No, but it might never be safe.

"We get in there, and we get out," I huff, giving in. I'm unprepared as both Bristel and Thom throws their arms around me. None of us are affectionate, so this is a surprise, but not an entirely unpleasant one. "Alright, alright, get off of me!" I gruff, smiling.

"Thanks," Bristel breathes, running over to grab a small satchel she tries to keep with her at all times. Her father gave it to her a while ago, so it is beaten and old, but she loves it.

I turn to Thom. "Nobody can know about this. If they find out we're visiting District Twelve, more people will want to go. We can't afford the risk right now."

He nods and goes over to Bristel, whispering my message in her ear. I go to grab my bow, dodging any curious stares. As far as anyone knows, we are just going for an afternoon hunt or a walk in the woods.

We stick together, setting out towards District Twelve.

It is time to visit our home.

* * *

I don't think to check my surroundings as we stagger onto the desiccated land of what was once District Twelve.

Everything,_ everything_, is burned. Most houses, there is nothing left. No trace that anyone even lived on the property besides the scorched ground and smoldering ash of ruined homes. Only the mayor's house, the largest of all, is still standing. Only just barely though. Blackened wood and foundation are all that is left. If I didn't know District Twelve like the back of my hand, I wouldn't be able to recognize the place. I wouldn't know that the burnt down structure in the far left corner of Town was the Justice Building. I wouldn't know that the seared pile of wood smack dab in the middle of District Twelve was where the whipping posts were. I wouldn't know that the little mountain of ash in the back of the Seam was once my home.

I know without checking that there will be nothing to salvage.

Steam rises up from the ground. The earth is still hot, and though it is not winter, the air is a cool outside. I feel the heat from the bombs. It has not yet gone away, though it has been days. Right now, seeing my home like this, I don't know how we will ever recover. How do we build new homes, a new life, after this?

I experience no sensation of relief as I stare upon the ruined land. Is this what letting go feels like? As if someone has taken everything away from you and there is not even the slightest chance of getting it back? As if a piece of you is missing, a piece that is essential to function, to live?

No, coming back here, it isn't healthy. It is torturing ourselves with the past.

Bristel's eyes brim with unshed tears. Our feet rest on the ground where her home used to stand. I have never seen her cry and I had never planned to. But now, I think she is on the verge of a breakdown and I am at loss as of what to do.

We are lucky the Capitol hasn't sent anyone yet, because we are too emotional and distracted to watch our backs.

Thom sidles up next to me. He remains solemn and quiet, not commenting on the destruction around him. I feel it though, we all do. The loss, the pain, the memories.

I can only mange a whisper as I make a much needed suggestion.

"Maybe we should head back."

* * *

The trip back was silent and grief filled.

We did not talk about what we saw, but I feel as if we might need to.

As we stumble back into the temporary camp, our heads down and our shoulders slumped, I feel as if something is off. My instincts notice it before I fully do.

Something is wrong.

As if in sync with my thoughts, Bristel and Thom raise their heads, eyes wide with confused expressions. People sit together quietly, whispering and murmuring back and forth. As we enter, coming out from the trees and into the crowd of people, everyone stills instantly. They cease their talking and mumbling, eyeing us warily.

Bristel goes to her father, whether for comfort or information, I am not sure. Thom follows her. I don't think he has anyone else to go to.

I am the first one to break the long, troubled pause.

"What's going on? What happened?"

Everyone seems to cower into themselves and back away, it is only Greasy Sae who answers. She stands up, still tall and proud after everything that has happened. Her face is serious as she examines me.

"Mrs. Everdeen and Prim found a girl in the woods today," she informs me gently. I nod, but I am sure my eyes betray my wariness and uneasiness.

This couldn't have been too long after I left Prim to tend to her herbs and set out for Twelve, but the fresh worry on everyone's faces makes me think it happened only a moments ago.

A part of me is afraid to know who it is, afraid to have my suspicions confirmed or disproved. I refuse to ask a name. "What's wrong with her?" I question after a lengthy stretch of time.

"Dehydration, shock, we're not sure. She was unconscious when they found her," Sae explains, her silver eyes soft. She pauses for moment, as if unsure whether she should add onto her statement, but she finally shrugs to herself and goes on. "She's over there," Sae says. She jerks a thumb to her right, the distance is a ways away, not far from the group, but far enough to give the person some privacy. "Still out cold."

I make my way slowly to the girl. I see my mother placing a wet rag on the girl's forehead and Prim listening intently to a pulse. Mrs. Everdeen inspects her body, searching for broken bones or injuries.

The yellow hair, Town hair, reflects off of the sun that only barely peeks through the branches of trees. Pale skin, dirt covered and tired looking, matches that of another I am constantly reminded of. She is maybe my same age, maybe a little younger.

I near closer, close enough to see the smile lines on the corners of her mouth. Close enough to see her pierced ears, a trend that exclusively stuck to Townies. Close enough to see her tear marks.

I finally look at her face as a whole and I hold back from showing my disbelief.

I know this face.

I know this girl.

* * *

**I hope the conversation with Prim was okay? I really hope I didn't confuse you all or make you think "this conversation is stupid and not at all relatable". I know that her story, what she was trying to convey was completely different, but my main point was letting go, and the struggle it is. The different ways people let things go.**

**And who is the girl? Is it Madge, huh? Perhaps.**

**Perhaps not…**

**We'll just have to wait and see!**


End file.
